


Honour Among Wolves

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (mostly for the sake of rationalising the crack pairing), (since westeros doesn't have age of consent laws 16 is a bit ambiguous), Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Borderline Underage Sex, Guilt, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, The Patented Richard Madden Sex Stare, Uncle/Nephew Incest, this thing is trash and so am i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: It's those eyes. Benjen knows he's hardly alone in being the object of their gaze; half of Winterfell seems to have felt them at least once. It's not Robb's fault. The lad was cursed to have Brandon's appetite but Ned's honour, and in truth, Benjen's not sure how long that can last. So far, young Robb's honour has never wavered, but everyone in Winterfell – and even him, a rare visitor these days – knows how much the boy wants to.And Benjen, Benjen worries about his nephew.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the asoiaf kink meme prompt: "Benjen/Robb, +virginity. Bottom!Robb. I'd like Benjen gently take away the young wolf's virginity. It's happening until the King visit the north. Inspired by the scene where Robb hug Benjen tight."

It's those eyes. Benjen knows he's hardly alone in being the object of their gaze; half of Winterfell seems to have felt them at least once. But they're all alone in the stables, Robb's hands dripping with sweat as he passes Benjen his saddle, and right now that gaze is for him and him alone. The boy asked to help him prepare his horse, which puzzled him, until Robb whispered in his ear that he wished they could talk privately. Benjen shouldn't have agreed, but he heard the faintest edge of desperation in the boy's voice that he couldn't refuse.

“Uncle.” Robb's voice almost cracks as Benjen fixes the saddle in place. The boy has had maybe a cup more summerwine than his lady mother would usually allow, and it makes Benjen slightly nervous. “Will you visit again soon?”

He sighs. “Can't be sure, lad. Never can.” In truth he visits Winterfell more often than he ought to – he finds excuses, and bares the glares of men a lot further from their homes than he is, who did not leave them willingly.

“Oh.” There is something steely in the boy's gaze now, and still hot, like a smelter, and Benjen thinks he should climb atop his ride and go before one or both of them does something they'll regret. It's not Robb's fault. The lad was cursed to have Brandon's appetite but Ned's honour, and in truth, Benjen's not sure how long that can last. So far, young Robb's honour has never wavered, but everyone in Winterfell – and even him, a rare visitor these days – knows how much the boy wants to. Benjen's heard serving wenches and stablehands alike complain about what a tease the little Lord Stark is, how he's always ready with an inviting smile and those beautiful blue eyes, blown wide with want, but how he always runs away before anything comes of it. Benjen assumes Ned must not know how his servants speak of his heir, for if he did he'd have them all thrown out on the streets, if he didn't take their heads himself.

And Benjen, Benjen worries about his nephew. He worries when the lad's virtue finally gives in, he will not think to let it do so carefully, he will not think to give himself to someone to cannot or will not ruin him with it. He worries that if the boy ever does slip, he might make some terrible mistake out of guilt or shame, to restore his honour. He worries about the Greyjoy lad, for he and Robb are very close, suspiciously close many say, and Benjen worries it would do to him if Balon Greyjoy rose again and Ned had to fulfill his grim duty, or worse, if something happened to Ned first, and that duty became Robb's instead. And he worries about Jon. Jon has always been his favourite of his nieces and nephews, but he's always known there's something between him and Robb that there shouldn't be (and part of him curses Lyanna for it). As much as Benjen respects his sister by law, he can't help but he frightened of what she might do if she discovered her husband's bastard (gods, why won't Ned just tell her the truth already?) meddling with her firstborn.

“I'll miss you,” Robb says, and all his nephews and nieces have said that to him a hundred times – although they usually phrase it as _we'll miss you_ – but Robb's voice has grown darker, lower, almost like the voice he'll command the North with one day. The lad is moving around, coming close to him, though not yet close enough to touch, and Benjen knows what he wants.

“Robb...” the boy's drunk, he must be. There's no way he'd be so brave if he wasn't. But his vision is clear, painfully so, since there's no hiding the desire in it, and the smell of wine on his breath is weak if there at all. Robb never moves to touch him, he just stands there, inching closer, sweat dripping down his neck and chewing his lip. Ned claims Catelyn has that habit, _'although she pretends not to'_ he says with a smile, and Benjen understands why he finds it so endearing. But Robb is his nephew, and so young, just a few months past sixteen years – old enough to wed, but barely, and sometimes Benjen wants to tell Ned he should have the boy wed sooner rather than later but he doesn't want to have to explain why – and he knows this is wrong. The longer Robb just stands there, the more certain Benjen is he's not going to make the first move, and Benjen knows he should go.

“Please uncle,” Robb whispers before he can, “I know it's wrong, but I – I want to.” It is _surrender_ in that voice, guilt and shame unable to cover that desperate, writhing lust anymore. “Gods, I want to so much.”

Robb sounds like he's on the edge of tears, at war with himself, and Benjen is terrified. Of what he might do to Robb if he says yes. Of what Robb might to do himself if he says no. He knows this is wrong, but it also seems wrong to leave Robb alone like this, desperate and vulnerable and maybe-drunk, easy to take advantage of. _You would be taking advantage of him too._ But, Benjen reasons (he rationalises), he is Robb's uncle, and would never hurt him; would be more careful than any other man, would never tell a soul. He is perhaps the best choice Robb can make.

Gently, he winds his calloused fingers through Robb's soft auburn curls – he cannot put it into words – and pulls the boy in for a kiss.

He tries to be slow at first – perhaps he is hoping to scare the boy off before things go too far – but Robb won't stand for it; he moans desperately into Benjen's mouth, winding his arms around his neck to pull himself closer. The lad's already hard, grinding shamelessly against Benjen's thigh, and Benjen feels his body start to respond in kind. He curses himself for it, even though he can hardly be surprised, given how long it's been (he's always tried to uphold his vows, although he's not always succeeded, for some nights it gets so cold on the wall it's very easy to tell yourself that technically, the words only forbid taking women). Robb gasps a little in pleasure against his lips, and then the boy's knees buckle slightly. Benjen quickly grabs him by the hips to stop him falling, although it probably wasn't necessary, but he realises he should find somewhere to lay the boy down.

Benjen guides Robb over to one of the bales of hay, and this feels wrong, taking him in the stables like this, like some girl from Mole's Town, but he's not fool enough to try and take him back to the castle. Little brother or not, Ned would have his head if he knew what Benjen was doing to his son. Besides, he doesn't think Robb could stand to wait that long. The boy already has a hand fisted in Benjen's black tunic, pulling him down on top as he lies back on the hey, spreading his legs wide to wrap them around Benjen's waist. Benjen is completely hard now, almost as much as Robb is himself, and some part of him wants to pin the boy down and fuck him 'til he screams but no, he'd never treat Robb like that.

His hands are clumsy as he pulls at the laces of Robb's fine leather breeches, not helped by being out of practice or by how the boy ruts and writhes against him like he's on heat, but Benjen manages after awhile. He pulls the lacing apart as far as it will go, and watches how Robb's cock peaks through the space, straining against white cotton smallclothes, and it seems cruel to tease the boy so Benjen quickly slides a hand inside Robb's underthings and takes a firm grip of his cock.

Robb moans, but soon slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Good lad,” Benjen murmurs unthinkingly, relieved he won't have to remind Robb how important it is they not get caught. He pumps the boy with ruthless efficiency, and it might be a little too much for the lad's first time but Robb doesn't complain, Benjen knows he ought to do this quickly before Robb's parents start to wonder what's taking him so long, and Robb is gasping for breath and bucking his hips up helplessly, on the edge of spending–

“Wait, wait, stop!”

Benjen pulls back so fast he makes himself dizzy. _Did I hurt him?_ Clearly the worry is written on his face, because Robb is quick to give him a reassuring smile, one Benjen thinks is trying to look a lot more certain than Robb actually feels. “Don't worry, you didn't hurt me, I just – I was about to come, and I–” the boy's voice falters, a blush rises to his cheeks, and he drops into a whisper before he continues, “–I want you inside me.”

He blinks at first, taking a moment to comprehend the request, even if really, he shouldn't be surprised. “It might hurt, son,” he says, but they both know that's not a _no_.

“I don't care.”

Benjen slaps Robb's thigh gently, not hard enough to hurt at all but enough to make the boy jump. “Don't ever say that,” he warns. “Else some man might believe you one day.”

Robb squirms a little, embarrassed, but Benjen knows it's done nothing to kill the boy's arousal. “Sorry,” he says. “But – would you?”

“Aye,” says Benjen, because really, what choice does he have? He doesn't want Robb asking for it from someone who wouldn't be so careful. “Wait there a second.”

He walks over back to the saddles, avoiding his mare's eye, who is staring with disinterest. He reaches for the oil they use to keep the leather soft, and when he turns around he sees Robb's breeches and smallclothes discarded by his ankles, as he perches on the edge of the bale, half-naked and chewing his lip. He looks nervous.

“Robb,” he says as he comes back over, “we don't have to do this. Not if you don't want to anymore. You're allowed to change your mind.”

The boy's eyes flicker with a moment – remembering his honour and his family and what Ned would say, all of it – but then he fixes his mouth into a hard, straight line and shakes his head. “I want to,” he says. “If I don't now I'm not sure I – I'm not sure I trust myself.”

“Alright.” But despite his words Robb is clearly on the edge of bursting with jitters, and so Benjen drops to his knees to kiss the lad again, to help him relax. Robb bites at his lip and moans softly, pushing his young, tight, pretty body closer. Benjen hates himself for wanting the lad so, his own nephew, but it's been so long. “Lay back,” he whispers against Robb's lips, and the boy sighs and obliges, spreading his legs wantonly as Benjen kneels between them. “I've got to get you open first. I don't want it to hurt.”

“I know,” Robb mutters, but Benjen ignores it, reaching for the oil and coating two fingers, and Robb eagerly arches his hips to expose his hole. But when Benjen starts to rub and circle it with one fingertip, the boy gasps and every muscle in his body seems to seize up.

“Easy lad, easy,” Benjen says, pressing a kiss to the head of Robb's cock to comfort him – and precome spills over his lips and down his chin; he'll have to be careful if he doesn't want the lad to spill before he's ready to be fucked. “It's alright, I won't put them in until you say. I just need to slick you a little.”

Robb lets out a high-pitched, nervous laugh. “It's alright,” he insists. “Just a little cold.”

Benjen's not sure how much he believes that, but as he slowly swirls his fingers across the boy's entrance, Robb's body relaxes back into the straw, and he gives a little pleased sigh as his thighs spread wider. Before long his hips are moving again; he's squirming, arching, wriggling, and anyone else would say that's the boy asking for more, would say that's him begging to have a man's fingers pry him open, but Benjen made a promise and he's not going to assume–

“Oh please,” Robb gasps.

Benjen pauses in his movements, which only makes Robb moan and writhe more, but he looks up to meet the boy's eye. “Please what, lad?” he says, and maybe that's a little cruel but he has to be sure–

Robb flushes again but he doesn't look away. “Please, put your fingers inside me.”

Alright. If that's what the lad wants.

Slowly, Benjen starts to slide his middle finger through the ring of muscle, and gods it almost hurts how tight it is. He suddenly realises how much his own prick is throbbing in his breeches, and starts to idly knead and squeeze it with his spare hand. Robb gasps as he's finally breached, seizing off the hay again, but when Benjen buries his finger to the first knuckle he lets out a small pained cry.

“Robb? You need me to stop? Did I hurt you?”

The lad shakes his head even as Benjen can see how he's grimacing. “It's fine, doesn't hurt,” he insists.

“Son, this is only going to work if you're honest with me.”

Robb moans, squirming against the finger opening him up, and then lets out a defeated sigh. “It hurts a little,” he admits. “But not much. I take more pain in sword practice every day. And it's – it's no worse than when I've done it to myself,” he says, and of course the boy's been playing with himself this way before now. Of course he has. “Please uncle, please don't stop.”

“It's alright lad, I won't,” he says, and the half-moan of desire, half-sigh of relief Robb gives out then goes straight to his cock. “Do you want the rest of it now?”

Perhaps he's going too fast, rushing it, but Robb nods frantically and Benjen knows he can't deny the boy. But he is careful, sliding his finger to the knuckle a fraction at a time, making Robb squirm a little for more, but that's alright. Better not enough than too much. He watches Robb's face as he finally slides his finger all the way in, the desperate, breathy gasp that slides from his lips, the way his eyes slide shut as he moans: “Oh.”

Benjen frowns, pressing a gentle kiss to the boy's hipbone. “Robb? Does that feel good?”

Robb moans and nods, and starts squirming again. “I – I have done this bit to myself, even if I haven't – you don't have to be so careful...”

“Don't think I could live with myself if I wasn't, son,” Benjen says, but he takes pity on the boy and starts to move his finger back and forth – not in and out, because Robb is still so tight that fingering him properly could still be tricky, but back and forth, slowly loosening him up. Robb groans and writhes in time with his movements.

After awhile the boy is open enough that Benjen can start to push his finger in and out, short, shallow thrusts that make Robb pant and bite his lips to keep from crying out. Then Benjen idly crooks his finger and Robb clearly can't help it; “oh!” he cries out before slapping a hand back over his mouth, remembering himself, but looking back down at Benjen with wide, pleading eyes.

Benjen meets his eye and smiles a little, perhaps getting carried away. “Did you like that?” Robb nods, and so Benjen does it again, listening to Robb gasp and whine at how good it feels, legs splaying so wide his feet hang off the straw. “Is that the right spot? There you go...”

He rubs hard over that spot for a moment, until Robb is practically sobbing against his hand with pleasure, but as the boy's thigh muscles twitch and spasm at his every move Benjen realises he has to stop if he doesn't want Robb to come like this, with little more than a finger inside him, and maybe that might be for the best but Benjen doubts it would satisfy the boy's burning curiosity. Robb is young, and Benjen doesn't know how long he can possibly last, but at the same time it'll be awhile yet before he's ready to be fucked. Maybe he should hurry things along then. Maybe he should add another finger. But Robb is still so tight, and Benjen really ought to add more oil before he tries – but he's put the oil just out of reach, because he's a damned fool, and Robb is currently squirming so desperately on his one finger Benjen doesn't think the boy could stand being left empty for a second, even if it was only so Benjen could give him more.

Without really thinking about it, Benjen leans down and applies his tongue to the boy's entrance instead.

“Ah!” Benjen has to chuckle a little as Robb seizes up and thrusts down against his mouth helplessly. Lad clearly wasn't expecting that. Still, he's equally clearly enjoying it, fisting a hand in Benjen's hair to pull him closer, grinding against his mouth, until his tongue slips in alongside his finger. “Oh gods, Uncle Benjen...” Robb moans, and Benjen is about to pull away and remind him he has to be quiet, but then the boy hesitates. “Wait, should you – be doing that? I mean, I don't want you to get sick.”

Then it's Benjen's turn to hesitate. The lad has a point; this is hardly the cleanest thing Benjen could be doing to him. It's not something he'd do back at the Wall, where the men are lucky if they get to wash once a fortnight. But he's not at the wall, and Robb, all prettied up for dinner, is probably clean enough.

“I'll be fine,” he says, pulling back a little to speak, although Robb still shudders at the feel of his breath on him. “Don't worry about me. You just... lie back, and enjoy it.”

And when Benjen returns his mouth to where it was, Robb seems helpless to do anything else.

Benjen is all but drooling on his finger and on Robb's tight hole before he dares try and add another. Still circling with his tongue, he brings his second finger to the entrance, but even wet as it Robb still feels so tight and Benjen can't believe it's going to fit. When he hesitates, however, Robb tugs impatiently at his hair. “Go on, do it,” he says, his voice so tight that telling the difference between a plea and a command would be a hard task for anyone. “Gods, please, I can't wait much longer.”

“If you're sure, lad,” Benjen murmurs and then starts to push his second finger through the ring of muscle, looking up to see Robb bite his hand to smother a cry. “Does it hurt?”

Robb shakes his head. “Not too much, don't worry, it feels good, don't stop, _don't stop_...” and so Benjen doesn't, he pushes forward until he has two fingers fully buried in Robb, and then he pauses, giving the lad some time to adjust. Robb just moans as quietly as he can, squirming a little. “Gods, move,” he whispers, and so Benjen does, subtle, soft strokes that nonetheless earn heavy, needy groans from Robb's mouth that the boy has to try and smother.

His prick is throbbing against his breeches again, and Benjen reaches down with his spare hand to grab it and give it some relief. He can't be sure if Robb says what he does next because he notices, or if it's just coincidence: “Oh gods, it feels so good. More. I want more, uncle. Is your cock going to feel this good? Is it going to feel even better? Oh gods...”

With no free hands, Benjen has to gently bite at Robb's thigh to reprimand him. _“Quiet_ , lad,” he says, but he can't help but smile – the boy really is enjoying this. “If you want my cock that much, I'm going to have to go get the oil first.”

“A-alright.”

“Which means I'll have to pull my fingers out for a bit.”

“Oh.”

“Are you alright with that son?”

Robb clenches tight around his fingers like he's anything but alright with that, but then he sighs, and his whole body relaxes back into the straw. “Do I have a choice?” he pouts, and Benjen chuckles as he slowly slides his fingers back out – noting with dismay how quickly he closes back up – and presses a fond kiss to Robb's thigh.

“Sorry lad.”

“J-just don't be too long, alright?” says Robb, already squirming, hand sneaking down to stroke himself.

“I'll try,” but when he stands up, Benjen does have to take a moment to adjust, his knees aching from having been knelt for so long. He's getting too old for this. But Robb is waiting, so Benjen shakes the thought away quickly and grabs the oil, placing it by Robb's side before he kneels back down, knowing he'll regret it later. But Robb's legs somehow spread even wider then, and he's fisting his cock desperately as he writhes and waits to be filled back up. His breath hitches, and gently, Benjen has to place a hand over Robb's wrist to stop him. “Careful,” he says. “I don't want you coming before I get inside you.”

“Does that matter?” Robb sounds genuinely confused.

“Aye, quite a bit. You'll be too sensitive after, you won't be able to take it.”

“Oh.” Robb sees the value of that argument, and slowly releases his own cock, red and hard and leaking onto his tunic. “Then do it fast, alright? I can't – I can't wait–”

That makes Benjen frown. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he says, but he looks at how hard the boy is and realises how much that must hurt, and flinches in guilt. So he's quick to coat three fingers in oil, kissing Robb's entrance once more before he presses them there. Except Robb tenses against him when he does it, and Benjen realises there's no way all three are going to fit at once. So instead he pushes only the two back in, and even at that Robb gives a cry like he's in pain – but as Benjen pauses, he writhes and whines so loud Benjen's afraid half the castle can hear him, so he doesn't stop until his fingers are fully buried and Robb's breath has been chased out of him again. “It's alright son,” he says, kissing Robb's thigh again as he slowly starts to move his fingers in and out, a little faster than he did before. “I'll give you what you need. I'll take care of you.”

“More, please...”

“Not until you're ready,” Benjen insists. But Robb practically sobs with desperation then, and he realises that no, the boy really can't wait much longer. So gently, he returns his mouth to the boy's hole – he flinches a little at the taste, since it wasn't cooking oil he used to slick the boy – letting his tongue and his spit wet him a little more, before slowly, he tries to add his third finger in. It's a struggle, and once the tip pops through Robb clenches tight around him and lets out a distressed whine. Benjen stops. “Is that alright, son?”

“A-aye.” Robb doesn't sound too sure of himself though. “Just – just give me a moment to...” he writhes a little more, until Benjen's fingers sink down to the first knuckle without him even moving them. Robb groans softly. “I think your fingers are thicker than mine,” he laughs breathlessly, which makes Benjen give a worried frown and consider taking them out. “But – but it's nice. It's good. Oh gods, it feels good. You – you can move them again now.”

“If you sure,” and Benjen does as he's bid, slowly pushing three fingers in deep and crooking them enough to make Robb bite his hand and wail in pleasure again. He has to be gentle though, spreading Robb open so carefully, until the boy suddenly grabs at his shoulders and thrusts down greedily.

“More,” he chokes out.

“Soon, I promise,” Benjen says, still not thinking the boy quite ready, but rewarding his patience by starting to move his fingers in and out a little faster. With his spare hand, he slowly starts to unlace his breeches, and flinches in guilt when he feels how hard, how wet is cock is – how much he really wants to fuck his nephew. _Ned would have my head._ But better his head than Jon's, he reasons.

“Not soon, now.” Benjen has to chuckle a little. Robb's never been particularly entitled just because of his position, Ned raised him too well for that, but there is a little bit of a lord's command in it when he says that. “Gods, please, I need to be fucked. I need your cock in me right this second...”

Benjen sighs and finally pulls his fingers away, listening to Robb whimper at the loss. “Alright, lad,” he says, pushing himself back up – fuck, if Ned doesn't kill him his knees will – and Robb hazily pushes his head up to see what he's doing, before grinning and spreading his legs even wider so Benjen can crawl onto the hay, slotting himself between them. When he finally takes his aching prick out of his breeches, a look of fear crosses Robb's face for a second – Benjen wonders if the reality of taking a cock in him might scare him off – but then he bites his lip in a way that looks anything but afraid. Robb moans as Benjen aligns his cock with the boy's hole, hoping he did enough to prepare the boy, and then he gently winds a hand through Robb's hair. “Robb, look at me,” he says, and Robb – eyes blown wide and half-closed with desire – struggles some to do so. “Now I know you think you're ready. I know you think I can take anything. But truth is, you've never done this before, and there's a good chance it could hurt you. I don't want that. So if it hurts at all, if you need to slow down, or to stop, you _tell me_ , alright?”

Robb nods so eagerly Benjen's not entirely sure he was listening. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Do you promise?”

Robb lets out a horribly frustrated moan. “Yes, I promise, just _please_.”

And he just sounds so desperate that Benjen, rightly or wrongly, can't bear to deny him anymore. He pushes in. Just the head at first, he won't dare try anything more, but from the way Robb gasps and throws his head back and clings to his shoulders, that is plenty. Benjen himself hisses a curse and bites his lip as he feels that heat close around him, thighs shaking as he resists the urge to bury himself right now. It's been so long. “Oh _gods_...” Robb moans in his ear, and Benjen pushes back a little to look at the boy's face.

“Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?”

Robb shakes his head. “Doesn't hurt at all, don't worry, you stretched me well uncle.” Benjen would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved. Cautiously, Robb starts to move his legs, and Benjen soon realises the boy is wrapping them around his waist. “You're – you're thick, but it feels so _good_. I want to take more. I want to take all of it. Seven hells...”

“Patience, son,” but Benjen does give him more, only about another inch or so, but he has drive his nails into his palm to keep from moaning as he feels the boy tighten around him. “Does that hurt?” he gasps out.

Robb winces slightly. “Maybe a little. But it's not bad. I just – give me a second to adjust.” So Benjen does, waiting there with half his prick squeezed to the point of agony, the other half begging for attention, until Robb starts to squirm impatiently beneath him once more. “Oh god, there. More. Fuck me more.”

Benjen does, he pushes in until Robb cries out, leaving little more than an inch left for him to take. When he stops though, Robb immediately tightens his legs around his waist, and starts clawing at his shoulders so hard Benjen thinks he might leave marks through then thick furs he wears. “Go on, uncle,” he whispers in Benjen's ear. “All of it. I know you want to. And I want you to. I want your cock, every inch of it.”

“Fuck,” he hears himself hissing, and then he finds his hands moving, grabbing Robb's tight, well-muscled thighs. The boy seems confused, but Benjen slowly guides him so he disentangles his legs from Benjen's waist, letting him push them up over his shoulders instead. And with that, Benjen tilts the boy back, and then thrusts all the way in.

“Oh!” Robb cries out, and Benjen kisses him to shush him and to comfort him in turn. “Oh gods,” the boy murmurs against his lips, breath descending into high, panicked whimpers. Guilt and doubt strike at Benjen's heart again.

“Son? It too much? You want me to pull back?”

“No,” says Robb, starting to sound truly annoyed with Benjen's constant questioning. “I just – oh gods...” with his eyes closed and his breath caught in his lungs, unthinkingly, he starts rocking up against the length inside him. Benjen hisses and curses, grabbing the straw to stop himself returning the movement. Robb pushes his neck up, sees where their bodies slot together, and bites his lip with what looks like equal parts lust and shame. “Seven hells, it really is all in, isn't it?” he laughs again, which devolves into a moan, and then he lays his head back down and keeps rocking upwards. “I wasn't sure it'd fit. But it's so good...”

Benjen wonders whose benefit Robb is saying this for, his or his own, but he does realise that the more they talk the worse a chance they have of getting caught. “It's alright son, we can take our time,” he says, stroking Robb's hair again, even though he knows it's not true – taking this long worsens their chances of getting caught as well, and Ned and Cat must be wondering where Robb's gotten to by now. “Do you want me to fuck you properly now?”

Robb moans and digs his heels into Benjen's shoulders. “Gods, please.”

Benjen sighs and pulls back, kissing the boy again to smother the noise he makes at the first thrust. He's still slow at first, sliding halfway out before pushing himself deep again, and Robb gasps as he bucks up against it. Benjen pauses a moment, during which Robb starts squirming again, so Benjen keeps their mouths fixed firmly together and moves again.

His rhythm is slow, gentle, cautious; no more than Robb can take. His prick is begging for more, but he's not doing this for himself, and he won't risk hurting Robb, not for a second. Robb, for his part, has his teeth dug deep in Benjen's bottom lip as he's bent in half, taking his cock with one muffled, needy moan after another. The boy's back arches with every thrust, and it doesn't take Benjen long to understand why, once he feels Robb's cock rubbing against him through his thick leather jerkin. He was careful not to make the boy come too soon, but he must be desperate by now. Benjen quickly reaches down and wraps a hand around the lad.

Robb breaks the kiss with a whine, before leaning up and digging his teeth into Benjen's neck to silence himself instead. Benjen hisses slightly at the pain and wonders what the men at the wall will think of the mark that's inevitably going to leave, but they'll probably just think he stopped in Mole's Town on his way back. Robb pushes himself so frantically down onto his cock and up into his hand that Benjen can't be surprised when a couple of thrusts later Robb gasps for breath, his hips stutter to a stop, he moans and spills all over Benjen's hand.

He stops, giving Robb a moment to catch his breath. Then gently, he eases Robb's legs back down, and pulls himself out. The loss of the heat and grip on his hand cock is as hard to bare as anything, but he's not going to wait until Robb tells him he doesn't mind if Benjen keeps fucking him until he spills. He's not going to hurt the lad, even if the lad would let him.

Robb just lies there, looking half-dazed, as Benjen pushes himself up onto his knees to wrap a hand around his cock. He can't help but look down at Robb's arse though, red and wet and used, the boy's legs still splayed wide and exposing himself, and Benjen knows he won't last much longer. Then he feels another hand on his cock, on top of his own. “Uncle.”

Robb is smiling at him, and Benjen can't think to say no when he starts to pump in time. He's not gentle with Benjen like Benjen was with him, but of course there's no need to be; his strokes are rough and desperate, smoothing over the head of his cock and wiping away a drop of precome, and Benjen can't be surprised when he groans, closes his eyes, and spends across the boy's spread, naked thighs.

It _has_ been awhile.

He keeps his eyes closed a moment while he catches his breath, and when he opens them again Robb is looking up, grinning. Benjen's not sure if it's the right thing to do, but still, he grins back. “So,” he says, “was that everything you thought it would be?”

“Mm, no.” Benjen frowns at that, but Robb's still giving him a teasing smile. “I never thought it'd feel _that_ good.”

Benjen has to laugh, and Robb laughs with him, and then he leans down to kiss the lad's forehead. For a second, it seems easy. Like he just shared something wonderful with his nephew, not something wrong and shameful, and no-one would mind if they knew about it. But then his mare whinnies behind him, and that snaps him back to reality. He ought to be leaving. He ought to have left long ago.

He stands up, and offers Robb a hand to help the boy sit. They stare at each other moment, and everything Benjen can think of to say seems awkward, or cruel, or both. “I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't run out on you like this – but I should have already left...”

Robb nods. “I understand.” But a troubled look crosses his face, and Benjen frowns.

“Are you alright son?”

The boy flushes and averts his eyes. “I'm sorry I threw myself at you like that,” he mumbles, and Benjen takes a deep breath. He should have seen this coming. _You damned fool._ “I didn't – I didn't mean to. I never mean to. I swear I never acted like that before, but it's been overwhelming me and – well I figured I could trust you–”

“Robb, Robb, I'm not angry with you,” Benjen says, hurriedly sitting back down next to the boy. _I'm angry at myself. You were vulnerable and I took advantage._ “You're young. All lads your age have urges they can't quite control. It's natural.” Benjen's not sure how natural it is to act on said urges with your uncle in the stables, but he's not going to say that aloud. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” _Or at least, a lot less than I do._

The lad looks like he wants to believe him, but he still chews his lip anxiously. “If Father ever found out, he'd...”

What would Ned do? He wants to say he'd send Robb to the wall, but under the circumstances that might be the wrong solution. “You let me worry about your father, eh? Believe me, he's not perfect.” And then he wonders if Robb is thinking of Jon, he thinks of the excuses he made with himself for doing this, and then his head hurts.

He moves to stand again, but Robb catches him by the wrist before he can. “Uncle,” he says. “Next time you visit – could we–?”

 _Oh._ Benjen knows he should refuse; that taking advantage of his nephew the once was unforgivable, let alone a second time, he shouldn't even consider it – but Robb clearly still _wants_ , with a desperation that threatens to rule out over every other part of him, and ultimately Benjen's concern (if that's what he'll tell himself it is) wins over his guilt. “Alright,” he says, and Robb breaks into a grin, and Benjen hates himself even more then. “But there must be no-one else, alright Robb?” The boy looks confused at that, and Benjen sighs. “You can't let this get out. You've got nothing to be ashamed of, but that doesn't mean people won't shame you for it. You trusted me and that trust wasn't misplaced, but you have to promise me, you won't do this with anyone you don't trust, alright?”

Robb nods, anxiety written all over his face. Guilt swells in Benjen's breast once more. He didn't mean to frighten the boy. Before he can apologise, however, Robb breaks into a smile. “Well. I'm going to miss you even more now.”

Benjen laughs at that, despite the shame bitter at the back of his throat. When Robb stands and moves to put on his breeches again, Benjen forces himself to meet the boy's eye. “Farewell, uncle,” Robb says with a soft smile.

“You too, son.” And when the lad embraces him, Benjen wants to thing it looks normal, like an uncle and nephew with nothing unholy between them.

When Benjen rides off into the night, he wonders whether he should desert, so Ned can take his head for an oathbreaker.

**Author's Note:**

> So, for those of you following along at home, this fic features:  
> 1\. Random-ass crack pairings  
> 2\. Unnecessary amounts of Starkcest  
> 3\. Unnecessary amounts of angst  
> 4\. Background ot3  
> 5\. Robb Stark slutting it up everywhere
> 
> So, in conclusion: your _face_ is predictable.


End file.
